Fold
by Dr Whatsit
Summary: The weeks that Stephen had taken off after Colima had been plagued with those dreaded hours of knowing. Knowing that tomorrow could be the day it ended. Post-Series


**Title: **Fold**  
Characters: **Natalie, Stephen, Frank, Eva, Miles (Mentions of Kate)**  
Genre:** Angst (In a sense...its the end of Nat/Con)  
**Summary:** The weeks that Stephen had taken off after Colima had been plagued with those dreaded hours of knowing. Knowing that tomorrow could be the day it ended.

* * *

In the recesses of their minds and through the winding of the grapevine the enemy notion of dispersal had lurked. The weeks that Stephen had taken off after Colima had been plagued with dreaded hours of knowing. Knowing that tomorrow could be the day it ended. Each day the four who waited and hoped for his arrival were forced to sit at home and think. Think until spared by Kate's drive to have them working again. In clinics, in simple instate cases, in research.

The maddening possibility of ending sat dormant in the company of others but raged and whimpered when they were alone. Hours of such thought had seemed unbearable to the small team. Days became torturous and weeks became demoralizing. _If_ became_ how long_, _how long_ became _when_, _when_ became _what day_, _what day_ became _today_, and_ today_ became _now_.

Now.

Two words delivered from doctor to director had ended the waiting period and had started the now. Now, without a leader. Now, without a plan. Now, without Connor. Now, Natalie would lead Research and Development, Miles and Frank would be transferred to diagnostics, and Eva would dabble in each corner of the NIH.

With two words the team's fate was sealed.

* * *

Natalie had seen it coming since the red flag in Central America. The red flag thrown up by Frank when his friend's intentions to leave became more than intentions and took the early stages of a plan. A plan that began with a letter written by his son; a plan strengthened by the sights of Colima in ruins and sealed with the loss of a promise to keep two young men safe. Such a plan should have been intercepted, edited, revised and carefully discarded before Connor could have taken notice. But all she had been able to do was construct a feeble sentence that failed to do anything but make such plans stronger.

It was the knock that announced her presence just outside the dimly lit office five hours before the end. She had been expecting something like this to happen, but her hope was that they would have met sooner, before he had made up his mind and not after. The soft echo of her knuckles hitting the frame went unheard for a brief moment before he looked up from his desk.

"Mind if I join you?" This time there were no beers, no talk of anthrax, no casual debriefing.

"I was just getting ready to leave," he stated simply. Stephen told of leaving for the night, but she knew that he'd be back before morning, before anyone had a chance to spot him and ask. It was one thing to tell a stranger in a suit of his decision, it was another to tell the ones it would truly affect.

She stepped inside anyway and eased the door close behind her, aware that the open windows of his office allowed the crickets' chirping to be heard and the soft breeze of early Autumn to ease in. Before that night she had never noticed such a sound or cool air, but then, before that night she hadn't been presented with a Stephen who no longer held authority over her.

She sat down on the large leather chair, pulling her legs up to cross in Indian style. So much could be said, and yet, at that moment, there was nothing personal she wanted to indulge. This was a professional visit at one in the morning, because what he had to say to her tonight would be final. There would be no second chances at getting it right because Stephen Connor was a man of his word, and even if it killed him he wouldn't go back on it.

Even if it killed her.

"You're leaving." It wasn't a question.

Even if it had been, his answer would have already been given by the packed boxes and his empty desk.

"Kate's threatening to split the team up." The statement was simple. It rang of resignation because she knew he didn't care anymore. Stephen Connor had a life to worry about, and they weren't a part of it. Had they ever been? Even if he did care, in his own heart it was too late to turn back now, it was too late to show it.

It was enough to make the pressure behind her eyes build. Everything they'd been through the past few years, the past couple months all meant nothing. Nothing but strong taste of failure in her mouth.

"You'll be the head of Research," he countered in his matter-of-fact way, "you won't have to work with patients anymore."

She didn't care about her new position, she cared about her old one.

"What do you plan on doing?"

Stephen shrugged. That information was not hers to know.

Images of a reunited family flitted through her mind; the possibility of a saved marriage and the repair of the damages done in his relationship with Jack. While the latter gained her full approval, the former was forced from her mind. Who was she to question it? even if it tore a hole in her heart to remain quiet.

Trying her best to keep her emotions from controlling her tone, Natalie cleared her throat and continued, "W-will we see you again?" Frank would because Frank was his friend. Would Eva and Miles see him again? Most importantly, would she see him again?

Natalie watched as Stephen stood, the crack of joints that had remained in one position for too long could be heard as he did. His refusal to make eye contact answered her question for him.

No.

Then there would be no arguing it.

Standing, Natalie watched him stack the last remaining books from the shelf behind his desk into a small box. She watched the muscles under the black shirt work as he reached and lowered and placed and prepared to leave. The pressure behind her eyes began to grow and threatened to become tears.

"What do I tell the others?" Tomorrow morning when they notice your empty office and don't need Kate to tell them that you are gone?

Without turning he answered, "That you just missed me."

A solitary breath escaped her lips, but it had no effect on him and he continued to pack. Stephen Connor, stoic, a machine, holding the pretense of not caring so it would hurt him a little less.

She leaned forward and pressed her small hands to the edge of his desk, knowing it was futile because he wouldn't turn around to look at her. "What do I say to me, Stephen?" Me, who against your better judgment, cares for you? Me, who knows, that against your best wishes, that you care for me too? Me, who knows that this is hurting you as much as it is hurting me? But those were the questions she couldn't asked.

And although the one she could ask seemed so simple, it was enough to make him stop.

It was enough to make him turn around, look down at her, and finally...finally show regret as he held out a large, pale hand.

Curiosity caused her to press her palm to his and accept the firm handshake.

"You do good work, Natalie."

A mirror of words she had heard only months before under entirely different circumstances.

"You'll be alright," it was suppose to be reassurance, but he didn't look certain anymore. The statement was a question in his eyes.

Her half of the handshake was a firmer than it needed to be; but then, they both had expected it to be. Blue eyes searched blue eyes for a long moment before she responded, tears visible but not falling. It'd be enough that he saw her struggling to remain calm; it would be enough that he heard the soft hitch in her voice. "_We_ did good work, Stephen."

And no, no she wouldn't.

Saying good-bye would have been too cliché, too hopeful, too masochistic.

Natalie turned and left, silently while Stephen watched.

Only he and his empty office held witness to the brief closing of his eyes and sigh as she walked away.

* * *

The next morning Natalie stopped next to Kate in the hallway and stared at the dark office, coffee in hand, mask in place.

Doctor turned to director and said simply, "He's gone."

And so the Team's end was complete.

* * *

When the four gathered for the first time after the split it was over a game of poker. They had taken over the break room on the second floor of the NIH. The cards had been stolen from one of the secretary's desk, and they had parked it at a table until the early hours of the morning.

There was laughter, because with Miles and Eva around there always would be. There was beer, because with Frank around, the four were always sure to find a hidden stash. And there was Natalie, who had become the mother hen of the group. She'd taken Stephen's place in watching over them, albeit it was from a distance, and made sure that harm remained as far away from them as possible...

Although her mood was light, the pathologist's heart wasn't in the game. Her winning hand was sure to catch her a few extra dollars of spending cash, but the question that the others wanted to ask her was hanging heavily in the air.

And such a question called for a lie, one that would tear the wound open before it had a chance to heal.

But it was asked anyway, by a serious Miles behind a pretense of laughter.

"You got to see Stephen before he left, right?" That question, though simple, was something the young man needed answered and something she needed to avoid. He wanted to know if he had been condemned by his old supervisor, or if in the eyes of Stephen he had truly made progress.

"No," she gave a sad smile and reached for her beer, "I just missed him."

As Eva and Miles nodded in understanding, Natalie's eyes caught Frank's and held.

He knew.

The bright red of her winning hand vanished against the dark surface of the table as she folded.

Natalie would rather lose than have him call her bluff.

At least then she wouldn't have to admit what she had truly lost.


End file.
